


By Blade and Fire

by orro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orro/pseuds/orro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two ways to kill an angel and Dean Winchester knows them both. Heaven isn't exactly thrilled that some human has been offing angels though. Enter Castiel, who is sent to make sure that one way or another, Dean is stopped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Blade and Fire

Castiel shifts in his new vessel, stretching out his arms and drawing his fingers into a fist even as he begins to take flight. His last vessel had been used beyond the limits of what he could heal and he’d sent the human soul dwelling in it to its well deserved rest.

 

The cold Illinois air bites at his fingers and face, and the feeling is different enough from his previous body that it startles him. He quickly relaxes; he will settle into Jimmy Novak’s body soon enough and his instincts are still well honed even if he has taken a new shape.

 

Angel blades cut deep, after all, and his opponent is armed with one. And he can’t forget the holy oil either. He can still remember the burned remains of his brothers. They had been lured into rings of the only fire that could kill them. Ashes mixed with ashes, for when angels die on Earth, their wings leave an imprint; Castiel is honored that he has been chosen to avenge them.

 

The air above the dark clouds is crisp and sharp in his vessel’s lungs as he sets off to find the human responsible for murdering his angel brethren.

 

_Dean Winchester must be stopped at any cost._

 

Castiel remembers the moment he received his order well. Something about the wind against his vessel’s face reminds him of it. Perhaps it’s the sharpness of it; he can’t puzzle together the vocabulary to describe the sensation here on Earth, let alone the rapturous feeling that Heaven causes to rise in him.

 

He knows he is being trusted with a great task. After the fall of the last captain of his garrison he had been watched carefully. They had worried that being so close to humans was corrupting them. But Castiel had held firm even as he walked amongst Men.

 

If he had thought of rewards, of positions, he would have been pleased at how well he had played his cards. But Castiel thought of nothing but his duty and his obedience to God. He was a hammer, a tool to be used in the fight against Lucifer and evil, for the good of humanity and all the inhabitants of Earth.

 

His orders are to stop this Dean Winchester, and if that should entail killing him, so be it. For the good of everyone, Castiel has no conniptions about killing a human. The death of one is preferable to the deaths of billions.

 

The wind whistles in his ears and the rain high up in the clouds falls against his skin, as though reminding him he is on Earth, in the human’s domain. Sometimes Castiel can repeat the words enough to convince himself.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean Winchester is an awesome hunter and fantastic in the sack. He’s got a whole list of things he’s amazing at, but he likes to keep it short, sweet, and simple. Those two do the trick.

 

He’s parked outside a hotel waiting for some skeevy asshole to pop out and heartily stuffing his face with a burger while he waits. Dean is placing his bets on this guy either being drunk or having a hooker on his arm once he does come out. He almost wouldn’t blame him; but then, if Dean’s done his job right and dug up the facts, this asshole is being haunted by some chick he killed a few weeks back.

 

Easy job, if a little depressing. Dean licks some ketchup off his finger to keep it from falling onto the seat of the Impala. He’s half tempted to let the girl have her revenge and then salt and burn whatever she’s attached to. She’s been following the guy pretty closely so he must have it on his person constantly. Dean’s got a hint that it’s his wallet or his phone.

 

When the man walks out with a prostitute, Dean turns to make a terrible (but hilarious) joke about whores and wallets. But all that greets him is the empty passenger's seat of the Impala.

 

It’s 2005 and Sam has been away at Stanford for four years now.

 

Dean carelessly shoves the remainder of the burger into the bag, appetite forgotten, and he turns away so he won’t be able to see the empty seat. He might hunt monsters but that doesn’t stop him from being haunted by his own ghosts.

 

* * *

 

 

_Castiel doesn’t realize it till after but he knows Anna far better than anyone else. All the angels have individual heavens they prefer; Anna likes the private garden of an seventeenth century elderly couple. He finds her hidden away in gazebo, unsurprised to see her curled up and sobbing into her knees. The racking tears have passed and the only sign that remains of them are the wet trails on her face._

_“You’re supposed to be patrolling the town,” she says thickly even as he goes to sit beside her on the stone bench._

_“That was a week ago. We’ve had new orders since then.”_

_She knows this just as well as he does._

_“Uriel said there were thousands of them,” she says. Her voice is still muted and her words all run together._

_‘Three thousand four hundred eighty seven people,’ Castiel thinks, and he’s about to say it but something in him suspects it wouldn’t be wise to mention that. He doesn’t closes his mouth and does nothing, unsure of what to do, even as he’s sure that simply sitting there isn’t the correct response. There are birds singing in distance; the couple kept birds somewhere on the premises and Castiel listens to them as he waits for Anna to speak again._

_“Why did we have to destroy the whole town?”_

_“We had to protect the seal,” Castiel reminds her. He wants to tell her that they have to protect the seals to Lucifer’s cage. To explain how these keep him away, keep the apocalypse from beginning, keep everything safe from his touch. But she knows this all, and this is what confuses Castiel._

_It’s a terrible tragedy but it’s a necessary one; and it’s why angels exists, to protect the Earth and humanity. Sometimes they fail in these smaller battles. But that’s because they will not lose the war._

_Anna shakes her head, and curls her legs in a little tighter as though that isn’t a good enough reason for her._

_Later, he will realize that that had been just another block. Just another line in the sand, another straw on the camel’s back. There isn’t a single moment that capitulates her fall, but that there are so many, spread out over an eternity so that no one notices how quietly she shatters, not even herself._

_But at the time all he thinks of is how compassionate his brave Captain is, that she mourns the loss of innocent lives so deeply even as time passes and she continues to carry out her heavenly orders. He says it too, and he brushes off his confusion over her silence as humbleness._

_Because that is the time when at last the cracks begin to grow too deep to ignore, and Anna knows that she will break because of it. But Castiel, and all the rest of the Heavenly host, go on blissfully unaware._

 

* * *

 

 

Hunters are all difficult to manage. Castiel stays unseen as he watches a hunter salt and burn the bones of a ghost that has been causing trouble. The cold Montana air still bites at him; the longer he stays in this vessel the more physical sensations he can feel, though he can still ignore them at will.

 

(And the more he can begin to understand why an angel falls.)

 

Even though he’s unnoticeable the hunter keeps looking around the graveyard, narrow eyed and suspicious. Hunters are hyper aware of the supernatural, and Castiel isn’t surprised that so many of them can still sense that something is amiss when he is around.

 

He wouldn’t bother hiding except they have a tendency to shoot first at anything that marginally begins to glow. Castiel admits easily enough that most things of the supernatural variety deserve to be shot first, but it’s grating when he’s the one getting shot at.

 

Luckily he can heal his vessel, and the actual bullets don’t hurt him. But it does get annoying.

 

And even more than that, most hunters don’t actually believe in God or angels. Some of them do but they never seem to believe that Castiel is an angel. He looks down at himself, vaguely wondering what it is about his appearance that causes them all to doubt. But he can’t see himself as a human would.

 

To top it off, hunters have such short life spans, even shorter than most humans, that if they do believe in angels, chances are they’re going to die soon after.

 

Dean Winchester is still easily the most difficult human Castiel has had to deal with, and he hasn’t even met the man yet. Somehow he is blocked from the angel’s sight. Most hunters carry around hex bags and other assortments of spells to keep them hidden, but there are none that can hide a human from an angel in the same manner that a hex bag protects one from a demon.

 

Part of his task is to figure out how exactly he’s hiding himself from their sight. The options grow fewer and fewer by the day and Castiel is loathe to admit that the most obvious answer may in fact be the correct one. An angel has betrayed them and hidden Dean Winchester from their sight.

 

Even more than that he fears that he knows the particular angel in question.

 

* * *

 

 

_Anna has been in this vessel for a decade now and she still feels so at home in it. She says nothing but she wonders sometimes if God made a mistake with her. Maybe she should have been born human._

_The thought is not her own. It comes from bits and pieces she has heard of humans, lazy talks and animated discussions of being born in the wrong era, the wrong gender, the wrong place. Something in her at found familiarity with that and the more time goes by, the more she thinks about it._

_It’s difficult though, because she loves God, and to think of him messing up is almost treasonous. It borders on disobedience._

_(She doesn’t think it’s worse, that she’s thinking for herself.)_

_Anna looks around the destroyed park. There’s a swing half torn off, swaying with the wind and it creaks and clatters as it hits against the twisted railing. The summoning of sixty six demons had been averted and luckily it had taken place at night, so there hadn’t been children in the park at the time of its destruction._

_Anna tilts her head as she stares at each of the demonic symbols painted on the ground. The seal didn’t break, though it came close, and Anna is here just to clean up. Hunters don’t generally know of the impending Apocalypse but they sometimes avert the destruction of seals just by doing what they usually do._

_She runs her hand over the blood, washing it away from the slide and swings. The playground looks trashed still though but there is nothing she can do about it. Nor would she if she could. Those aren’t her orders. No one will ever truly know what happened here. People will go on with their lives, never knowing how close they came to disaster._

_She hears footsteps but she can tell it’s a human, so she doesn’t turn around. Anna means to vanish before they can get closer and begin to question her why she’s here. She hears the gun click and the bullet fire without even a warning from the man. He’s a hunter then, because most anyone else would have shouted at her. Hunters know better. Most supernatural creatures will never give them a second chance._

_Anna doesn’t flinch at the bullet wound though she does look down in surprise. She hadn’t been expecting that. It’s ominous, as it’s the beginning of the end for her, though of course she has no way of knowing that._

_She turns around slowly to lock eyes on the hunter, meeting his green eyes and wary expression._

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel meets Dean in a dirty sewer in Oregon. Meets is perhaps the wrong term. Technically Dean summons him.

 

Inside of a ring of holy fire.

 

There’s something deeply ironic about this all. If Dean was going to summon him, he ought to have done it months ago and saved him the trouble. Mostly, Castiel is furious that he’s trapped. He knows this is Dean’s method and he still fell for it. Castiel doesn’t normally enjoy killing things but he can finally understand why Uriel is always so willing.

 

“Are you Castiel?” Dean demands. He’s got something in his hands and it’s pointed right at Castiel, though he’s not sure what it is. It probably isn’t anything good for him though.

 

He recognizes Dean from the multitude of photos he’s picked up (technically stolen but Castiel has a loose understanding of what stealing constitutes for humans). He narrows his eyes at Dean and nods once, curtly.

 

“And you are Dean Winchester.”

 

“Yeah, thanks for that; I know who I am,” he says. There’s something falsely easing going about his voice and Castiel feels that it’s more dangerous than soothing.

 

“How did you know my name?” Castiel asks.

 

Dean snorted, amused.

 

“Dude, you’ve been asking people around like I’m freaking Carmen Sandiego. Caught wind of it, and I ignored it; figured you were some punk hunter with sloppy technique like that. Till I found out you were an angel.”

 

His voice goes hard at that bit and Castiel knows he’s in trouble. He is, after all, one of the things that Dean has been hunting down and killing.

 

“See this?” Dean says, lifting the device, smiling all the while. “It’s chock full of holy oil. So you’re gonna answer my questions or I’m going to torch your feathered ass.”

 

Castiel frowns a little, certain that Dean will do so anyway once he answers his questions. But he doesn’t say anything just yet.

 

Dean walks around the ring once, inspecting him from all angles and sizing him up. Castiel doesn’t turn his head to follow him, though he does watch him as much as he can without moving. The light from the fire is uneven and it doesn’t soften Dean’s suspicious expression.

 

“Who sent you?”

 

“God.”

 

“God? God personally sent you to get rid of me?” Dean laughs, highly amused about something.

 

Castiel isn’t about to give out any names of other angels. If Dean has the spell to summon angels, then just their names are enough to call them down.

 

“You’re killing angels.” Castiel accuses him but Dean just shrugs it off.

 

“You guys are dicks,” Dean says. “Supernatural, feathered dicks. You’re killing people. And not just snacking on them like vamps and werewolves, you’re taking out entire towns. You’re fair game.”

 

Castiel looks down for a breath. Humans aren’t supposed to know about the Apocalypse, or that the seals are being broken and fought over. Not even hunters, helpful as they can be at times. Something tells him that it probably won’t matter to Dean though. There is probably nothing he can say that will get Dean to let him out of the ring alive.

 

“Alright, next question. What’s the order? When I gank you, are other angels coming after me?”

 

Castiel nods. He’s unsure of what ‘gank’ signifies but he guesses it isn’t good. Dean looks him over, as though trying to decide if there’s something he wants to ask but isn’t quite sure if he should risk it.

 

“Nice having this chat,” Dean says, apparently having decided against his last question.

 

Castiel feels no fear as Dean gets ready to torch him.

 

“It was Anna, wasn’t it.”

 

Dean freezes and almost drops the flamethrower. He tries to hide his surprise but Castiel sees right through him. And now he knows.

 

“They said she died in battle. But there are her symbols. Her name.” Castiel tells him, meeting his eyes. “It’s built into the phrasing. You could have only learned of this if she taught you, for no angel has ever written such a thing that humans can learn of it on their own.”

 

Dean looks uncertain as he looks over Castiel, as though trying to figure out how he knew Anna. Without a word he locks the nozzle of the flamethrower and starts climbing up the ladder that leads out of the sewers, leaving Castiel inside of the ring of fire.

 

Castiel closes his eyes, listening as Dean gets into his car and drives away. It’s easier for him to stand there, in the fiery death trap, than to try to escape it and have to deal with the fact that Anna gave the tools to kill angels to a human.

 

* * *

 

 

_Dean backs away a step when Anna lands in the hotel room. She tilts her head and frowns at him. He’d used his cell phone to text her his location so her appearance shouldn’t have been a surprise. Anna couldn’t use the phone just yet but she knew how to read a message, at the very least._

_“If you’re pulling another rib cage art show, you can turn your angel butt right on out of here,” Dean said, wincing as he remembers the feel._

_Anna smiles wryly._

_“I thought hunters were supposed to be tough.”_

_“Ribs, Anna. My fucking ribs.”_

_“Technically it was all of your bones.”_

_“Not helping,” Dean said, though he went back to the sandwich he was chowing down on. He  pulled out a second sub and tossed it to her. “Hungry?”_

_“Angels don’t need to eat.”_

_Dean gives her a look and she unwraps it, obediently taking a bite.  She had eaten before, but the other angels had always looked at her askew for it. It was a sign of getting too close to humanity._

_“You said you were going to teach me some sigils or something?” Dean says, mouthful of sandwich. Anna should find it disgusting, but instead she’s amused. If only her brothers and sisters could understand . He smiles when she nods. “How ‘bout we get on that after the show?”_

_Anna has never watched television. She tilts her head , distracted from the sub for a moment._

_“Why is that doctor wearing cowboy boots? He isn’t on a farm.”_

_“You have much to learn, my young Padawan,”  is Dean’s reply as he shakes his head at her._

 

* * *

 

 

Dean hates angels, all of them, and he really hates how they can appear out of nowhere. And he knew the risk involved in summoning an angel, but he’d thought that he would have killed Castiel, not let him live.

 

Castiel knows something about Anna though, and considering that Dean has never breathed a word to anyone about her, that was reason enough to hightail it out of there, dead angel or not.

 

The difference between the chase before and now is that Castiel has a personal investment in finding Dean. Dean knows something about Anna, how she really died, what she was really up to in the months before her death, and Dean has a feeling that Castiel damn eager to pry the information out of him.

 

Dean hasn’t evaded years of angels for nothing though, but Castiel knows his face, and he will find him.

 

So it’s kind of his own fault that Castiel has been practically on his tail and he’s pretty sure that he’s going to find him sooner rather than later. Angels don’t have to bother with sleeping and eating after all.

 

It’s when Castiel forcibly lands on the roof of the Impala as Dean is comfortably speeding down a highway that he feels pissed off though. The bastard could have at least caught up to him when he was not in the middle of driving, dammit.

 

Dean rights the car from when it swerved at the impact and slams on the brakes, smirking a little as the weight on the top vanishes. He grabs the angel blade and leaps out of the car the first chance he gets.

 

He’s kept it on him since he let Castiel go, which is handy as the moment he’s out of the car, Castiel is on him, swinging his own blade. The force of it almost sends Dean sprawling and to his dismay, he’s overpowered in a few short moves.

 

Angels are ferociously strong, something that Dean is reminded every time he goes to bat with one. He could bulk up for a hundred years and never hope to match their strength. Usually he’s got the upper hand, and he really misses it because holy fuck Castiel ain’t holding back. He throws Dean onto the ground and stares coolly at him as Dean groans and winces.

 

“Where did you get the angel blade?” Castiel demands.

 

“It came in a Happy Meal.” Dean grins, wide and easy at him. If he’s gonna die he’s gonna go out making sure to piss Castiel off as much as possible. He cautiously gets back up and gives it a whirl, mocking him with it.

 

Castiel scowls at him and for a moment, his anger seems to be palatable. He draws himself back in after a moment, calm again.

 

“You knew Anna. How?”

 

“You want to know about Anna? Why would I tell you?” Dean says, bristling in empty posturing. His eyes are darting about searching for a way to escape and at the same time bracing for the killing blow that is sure to come.

 

“I won’t give chase.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Dean is kind of used to Anna’s poofing in and out. She likes to joke that it’s to keep the element of surprise on her side but Dean knows that she likes to see him jump every time she does it._

_This time when she pops into his motel room Anna says “they’re going to kill me” like she’s talking about a fucking grocery list. It doesn’t help either that she totally forgoes a greeting and just jumps into the matter. Fucking angels._

_Dean is used to suicide missions and heck, you could say each and every single one of their hunts are suicide runs, since anything little thing can happen and bam!, you wind up dead. But the way Anna is sitting back and just letting it all happen, when she’s a fucking angel and she has juice behind her, is just pissing Dean off._

_“You can fight them off,” Dean says stubbornly as he slides off the bed to face her. Because life isn’t fair and most of the time he can deal with that. But Anna is an angel, and she’s a good person, and it doesn’t even remotely begin to make sense why Heaven wants her dead._

_If that’s what Heaven is really like then Dean wants to give Hell a spin. Because there’s no way anyone down there can be even douchier than how Heaven is acting right now._

_“Maybe. Maybe not.”_

_Fucking angels and their stupid inability to talk normally.  He practically wants to tell her to go die and get it the fuck over already, since she seems to be looking forward to it so much. But he can’t bring himself to even joke like that right now. And that’s how even he knows that it’s serious._

_Anna looks at him, and she’s apologetic but he knows that’s just a look. He got it from Sam all the time. Sure, maybe they’re sorry, but they’re still going to do whatever stupid shit plan is going through their head._

_“Right now, all of their attention is on me. If I can keep it like that, give you a chance to get away and be safe-”_

_“Oh even better, you can sacrifice yourself,” Dean interrupts, sarcasm dripping off every word. Anna isn’t bothered; he suspects she still doesn’t have the complete grasp of sarcasm. Angels aren’t great on the whole picking up on tone inflections._

_“Dean, we’re not supposed to get close to human,” Anna reminds him. She smiled faintly. “And we’re really not supposed to give them weapons or information.”_

_The angel blade is currently in the trunk of the Impala but when Anna mentions it, he can almost feel the cold metal in his hand again. He knew he shouldn’t have had one of those, but he hadn’t said anything, figuring that Anna wouldn’t have given it to him if that were the case._

_“You’re pretty serious about this all,” Dean mutters, though it’s mostly intelligible since he doesn’t want Anna to hear him._

_She frowns a little when she can’t understand him but she doesn’t dwell on it._

_“If I can keep them from finding out about you, from everything that you know-”_

_“I’m not running away and leaving you the fuck alone to deal with those douchebags.” Dean said firmly._

_“You will,” Anna said, just as firmly. “Don’t make me erase your memories, Dean. I can modify them, make you think that you’ve never known me.”_

_“You won’t do that.”_

_“If you don’t make me.”_

_Dean scoffed._

_“You need to stick around, and...you need to stop us,” Anna said. “Heaven is, it’s not what it should be. I can see that now. But no one else will. But maybe you can. Maybe that’s something that humans can do, that an angel can’t.”_

_Dean is quiet as he thinks that over. It’s hard to think that humans can do something that angels can’t. God sounds like a dick, and an idiot, if he’s putting that kind of power in people. Dean knows people, heck, he even likes a few, but he knows what sons of bitches they can be. He’s one of them, after all._

_“People don’t believe in Heaven. And they don’t believe in angels.” Dean didn’t want to outright say that she was wrong._

_“You do.”_

_Dean knows that isn’t enough. And he’s terrified that Anna thinks it is. Because he’s not a hero, he’s not that kind of person. He doesn’t meet Anna’s looks, all too aware that she would be looking to him as the answer; she’s as good as dead and Dean isn’t cruel enough to take away whatever hope she wants to pin on him._

_But Dean isn’t enough to save one angel. Nor is he the one that can save Heaven and Earth and every fucking thing. He just isn’t._

* * *

 

 

Castiel hadn’t met his eyes, he’d looked away and spoken so softly that Dean had trouble believing this was the same creature that had dented the Impala’s roof (he was going to get him back for that). Just said “she’s my sister” and really, that was enough for Dean to give him a second chance and maybe admit that yeah, Anna was the one who gave him an angel blade and told him about the holy fire.

 

Sue him, he had a sibling thing.

 

That had been surprising too though. Anna hadn’t mentioned the other angels by name or personally much. She usually just referred to them all in one big group. Dean thought back to that night when he had told her to fight back so cavalierly. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t wanted to fight back. She didn’t want to hurt her family.

 

Made sense why Castiel was so gung ho to find him though. Dean didn’t know what he would do if someone messed with his family. (Except he did know, and it tended to wind up as decade long revenge quests).

 

That’s why he still can’t take a break. He’s seen demons watch out for each other, take revenge for fallen comrades in arms; angels being willing to kill one of their own is beyond words. So yeah, maybe Castiel is different, and he apparently gives a shit (or he’s good at faking it), but Dean still has a beef with these ‘angels’.

 

Castiel might not have chased him this time around but he’s going to pick up his trail soon enough again. Cause he’s not about to stop ganking them.

 

* * *

 

 

_Dean is hundreds, thousands of miles away when it happens. In fact, he’s so far removed he isn’t entirely sure when it does happen. But he dreams of a vivid clearing, the road signs and buildings leading up to it so clear that he has no trouble finding it on an internet map search once he wakes up._

_It turns out not to be a clearing but what used to be an old recreational center for the city of Berkeley, Michigan. News reports say that it had been mysteriously leveled overnight. It’s mostly fenced off and no one really cares about it, because the city had been trying to find funding to bulldoze it anyway. It’s a fortuitous coincidence for them._

_Dean parks the car nearby, and he lifts up the yellow police tape that’s only there as a formality. He walks over to the center, knowing that he’ll see an imprint of shadows and ash in the shape of wings. Nobody’s noticed it otherwise it would have been all over the news._

_Anna said they wouldn’t leave a corpse. Anything that was left of her would be destroyed. It’s not even worth it to gather the ashes. Dean just stands there, angry and mournful and helpless. He’s one man, he can’t go against all of Heaven._

_But then, he thinks, Anna had been just one angel._

_There’s an angel blade in his car.  A can full of holy oil. There are sigils etched into his bones that keep him invisible to all angels. He thinks to the sigils Anna taught him; those that repel, that banish, that capture, all which keep him safe and armed. And he looks up at the sky and smiles, easy and wide._

_He’s just one guy with a G.E.D. and a give em hell attitude._

_And he’s going to fuck Heaven up._

 

* * *

 

 

Dean isn’t exclusively an angel hunter. The usual crop of uglies are still roaming around and he’s way more interested in saving people from a werewolf about to chow down on them than an angel who’ll just snuff em out.

 

Right now he’s hunting down what could be a ghoul but is probably a zombie in Monte, Nebraska. He wrinkles his nose at the smell of the corpse in the house. The latest victim is in the dining room, tied to the table; there are a few pieces of flesh stuck to the lacy tablecloth but the bones are picked pretty clean.

 

And he can see bite marks on the bones which puts this into the ghoul category because zombies don't usually leave the corpses all neat and picked off.

 

There's something simple about these jobs that he appreciates. No worrying about good and evil and the shades of grey in between them. He doesn't have to fuss about the irony of Heaven being just as much of dicks as everything else in his goddamn life. Just gank the bad guys who like to chow down on good natured middle class folks. Easy and simple.

 

It's simple till he realizes there are two ghouls working as a pair, and they decide to ambush him the moment he steps upstairs. Dean fires his first round blindly. The surprise of the gun shocks the ghouls for a moment; he uses half of it to take stock of his surroundings and the next to zero in on the nearest ghoul. He fires again, hitting that thing right in the heart. It won't hurt it, and he knows it, but it's just enough time to get his machete from out of his belt so he can start slicing and dicing.

 

For a moment there it's going great for him. He's even keeping the stairs in mind, but then, so are the ghouls. They both tackle him at the same time and the three of them are sent tumbling down in a great big nasty pile.

 

Dean tries to keep his grip on the machete but he loses it sometime between the seventh and eleventh step. His gun is at the top of the steps.

 

The ghouls pin him down the moment they stop falling, unbothered by the tumble while Dean’s head is still spinning. One of them starts babbling about how tasty he’s going to be. The other one of them fucking sniffs his arm and Dean shivers, horrified and not above showing it. Fucking nasty ghouls.

 

And then Dean is pissed because goddammit, he is not going to die, eaten alive by a fucking ghoul of all fucking things. He pushes and flails even as he knows it’s near pointless. But then to his surprise something rips the ghoul off from him. He looks up to see Castiel, blade out and at the ready. The ghoul doesn’t get more than a moment to try to puzzle out this new development before it’s decapitated.

 

“Castiel?” Dean scrambles to stand up because there’s another ghoul still in the room and if he’s flat on his butt, he’s an easy target. His surprise is still not about to be abated anytime soon though because no matter how hard he looks, it’s Castiel saving his ass.

 

Castiel doesn’t say anything to him and instead turns to the second ghoul. In a neat move he teleports in front of the ghoul as it attempts to escape and with another slash of his blade, the creature falls to the ground, headless.

 

He looks at it for a while, and then he turns his attention to Dean.

 

“I’m not here to kill you,” Castiel says. The blade is gone from his hands to prove his show of good faith.

 

Dean stares blankly at him for a moment then runs into the nearest bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He’s got seconds to make his move thanks to that freaky angel speed.

 

Castiel frowns and stares at the door. He goes up to it and rattles the knob, and when he sees that it’s locked, he teleports himself past the door and inside the room.

 

“Dean, I have to-”

 

He has time for his eyes to widen in surprise as he recognizes the angel banishing sigil, fresh on the wall, but no time for anything else as Dean smashes his bloody hand against it.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel doesn’t hate many things, but as of this moment, he is one hundred percent certain that he hates cows.

 

The last thing he remembers is Dean slamming his hand against the wall of the banishing sigil, blasting him away. He’d crashed into a dairy farm in Scotland and while unconscious been possibly stepped on by a cow and had his vessel’s arm and leg broken. Bones have always been difficult for Castiel to heal and he is awfully sore at himself for this weakness in his skills. Because now he is stuck healing and possibly staring at the same cow that thought to step all over him.

 

He ignores it as much as he can, though he’s fairly sure that it’s possessed as it keeps nudging at his head, either to eat him or to make him get up. Castiel is not that well versed in cows.

 

He’s not certain he’s that well versed in people as of late either. It was easier when he had just been chasing Dean without actually having met him. Because now everything is not as he had thought.

 

Dean doesn’t hunt angels because he can, but because he sees them as a threat, as if they are no different from werewolves and ghosts like he hunts. For a while Castiel had been furious but then he had realized that from Dean’s point of view, it surely seemed that way. They did eradicate towns full of innocent people, for what seemed to be no reason to him.

 

But Castiel had thought by now that he had proven himself to be an ally, not a menace. He hadn’t chased Dean as he had promised, and he had turned up in time to rescue him from ghouls. Anna had obviously won his trust somehow.

 

So why doesn’t Dean trust him, if even a little?

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh shit,” Dean says and he completely ignores the wave of shushes directed at him. He’s used to getting glared at whenever he enters a library. “Oh shit,” he repeats as he blinks and realizes that yes, that’s Castiel in front of him, and he’s not totally certain that the angel won’t kill him this time around.

 

Dean doesn’t harbor many delusions or fantasies of safe places. And anyway, Sam was always the one with the boner for libraries. But Dean had developed some kind of idea that Castiel would avoid showing up in the middle of a public library in broad daylight with dozens of people around.

 

Figures that would be something he doesn’t notice.

 

Also, wow, holy shit Castiel looks like he’d murder him with his look if he could. It’s easy to see that he’s an angel. Dean gets up slowly, hands up to placate him.

 

“Look, let me explain-”

 

Castiel glowers at him and raises his hand, jabbing him in the forehead with two fingers. And Dean knows he’s super pissed, because Anna used to do the same thing, and he’s well aware that there’s no need for force to be involved.

 

That teleporting thing angels do always makes him sick and constipated, and if the bastards would listen for half a second, he would be perfectly (probably) amenable to following. Also they always forget his car and that’s just mean.

 

“I saved you and-”

 

“Half a minute!” Dean snaps without malice and glares right back at Castiel. He’s still disoriented from the teleporting but he really doesn’t want Castiel to pick up on it; especially since he has no idea where he is. “You poofed me to fuck knows where, we’re on your terms, so you give me half a minute and then we’ll talk.”

 

Castiel bristles and Dean is already picking out the pyre he wants to be burned on. He pulls out the knife hidden in his boots and slices his arm open, quickly painting a sigil on the wall. He briefly wonders where the fuck they are, laughs a little at the thought of this being someone’s house, then turns back to Castiel.

 

He’s staring at the sigil, well aware that it’s meant to keep angels out. He’s putting it all together and Dean thinks that maybe he won’t have to worry if it’s Sam or Dad who ends up with his corpse.

 

“Well? Go on. What was so goddamn important? Because I was in the middle of a case, and ghosts don’t stop killing just cause of whiny ass angels,” Dean says, poking at his arm to see if it was done bleeding.

 

Castiel’s head moves as if he wants to tilt it but instead he reaches over and with a light touch heals Dean’s arm. Dean watches, fascinated by the angelic power to do that. He runs his finger over the now unbroken skin. That could come in handy during hunts.

 

“Why did you use the sigil to send me away?” Castiel asks. He doesn’t sound angry though. Just awfully confused. It tempers Dean as well and he shrugs, almost sheepishly.

 

“Maybe I don’t hate you much as the other angels but I don’t trust any of you.” Dean almost stops because something almost like hurt shows in Castiel’s eyes, and Dean can take demons and ghouls a whole lot better than the idea that he’s hurt an angels feelings. That’s just weird shit right there.

 

He looks around, trying to figure out where the heck Castiel has brought them to. It’s distinctly suburban, middle class, and normal. Mostly he’s hoping to heck that no one currently lives here. It’s always messy when people walk into their home to see you there, ‘specially when you aren’t supposed to be there.

 

Dean meets Castiel’s look and something in him wants to warn the angel. Castiel hasn’t ever reminded him of Anna, but right now, he’s getting major deja vu. He laughs at himself, because he’s been killing angels, so this sudden about face to save an angel is hilarious.

 

“Someone could have been watching. You’re supposed to kill me, right?” At that Castiel looks down and hesitates. Dean blinks but he doesn’t say anything, because what the hell can he possibly say to that? He’s not really sure he wants to know. Also, he should be running, because duh, Castiel wants to kill him. Instead he keeps talking. “You shouldn’t trust them either. They’re dicks, and they’re planning something. “

 

“Heaven always has plans.”

 

“Yeah, well, I just don’t think I can get behind a plan that includes slaughtering towns. Seems kind of demonic to me.”

 

“Heaven is just,” Castiel growls but Dean just shrugs.

 

“I’m just saying. Didn’t seem to me that Anna deserved to die.”  

 

That stops Castiel cold and he doesn’t answer back. Dean looks around for a moment. That is a bit of a low blow but Castiel isn’t saying anything back, so Dean thinks that it is probably something he needs to hear.

 

“You left my car back there,” Dean complains. It’s practical, because he was in the middle of a case. And he doesn’t know where the goddamn hell he is. (Also, and he’s not about to admit this aloud, but he’s not going to deny it to himself, his tone is pretty petulant. It’s his baby, okay.)

 

“It’s outside,” Castiel says and then he’s gone.

 

Dean finds the front door and he’s more than a little surprised when the Impala is right outside.

 

“Son of a bitch,” he says admiringly.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel’s orders are both to technically capture or kill Dean Winchester. But he’s also supposed to find out how Dean Winchester is avoiding detection by angels and how he came about an angel’s blade, neither of which are really possible to find out if he’s been killed. So Castiel isn’t technically disobeying his orders as he lets Dean live time after time again.

 

Not that anyone is exactly suspicious. Uriel is eager for his victorious return, because Castiel suspects that he isn’t too fond of uppity humans. Zachariah of course wants results and answers.

 

But everyone has admitted that this is a difficult task, and though they believe that Castiel is capable of performing it, a few also feel that it reneges on impossible. Dean Winchester has killed quite a few angels, after all. And Castiel’s saving grace is that they all believe it will take time.

 

It’s why he can sit down at a restaurant with Dean and allow himself to be filled with food. And pie. Apparently pie is in a category of his own.

 

Also pie comes last, cause ‘you always save the best for last, Cas, everyone knows that!’ In the meantime, he’s staring at a Triple Bacon Burger (with fries and a soda), not quite sure how to eat it.

 

“Pick it up and just take a bite,” Dean says, already midway through his.

 

Castiel tries, though the burger is large and unwieldy and he’s certain it’s going to slip right out of his hands, it’s that greasy. Dean is watching him though and he laughs once Castiel finally manages to get his mouth on it and successfully take a bite. He full on howls when the ketchup in the burger drips out and splatters all over Castiel’s front.

 

It’s easy to ignore him because it turns out to be quite delicious, even if he does feel his vessel’s heart slowly die with each bite.

 

“Told ya.” Dean smirks and steals some of Castiel’s fries.

 

“Eat your own,” Castiel tells him sternly as he swipes some of Dean’s fries in revenge. He’s not sure why that also makes Dean smile. It’s a mundane action, though kind of a nice moment overall, and Castiel is all too well aware that it isn’t remotely in spirit with his mission. He smiles back at Dean instead and keeps on eating.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean is fresh off a werewolf case and the diner he'd gone through had given him the last pie for free to get rid of it before they closed. He's singing along to the radio and he doesn't even think of stopping when Castiel pops into the passenger's seat.

 

It's not weird to see Castiel there either. In fact, it feels kind of right, in a way that Sam could have never fit there.

 

Since Castiel never bothers with hellos or goodbyes, Dean doesn’t this time either. What he should be doing is asking how Castiel managed to find him; Dean has anti-angel detecting sigils carved into his bones and if those don’t work, he’s going to lose one of his best defenses against the angels. Instead he turns the volume down a notch and grins at him

 

“What, hungry? I ate already, man. You missed dinner.”

 

“Angels don’t require food,” Castiel says and Dean rolls his eyes, because he’s seen Castiel chow down.

 

“Isn’t always about what you need.” Dean flips the the radio off. There’s something not quite right here and he’s going to need to focus. Castiel hasn’t ever to his memory turned down food. Kind of funny that that’s the tip off.

 

Castiel frowns and looks at him, as though trying to figure out what Dean is going to say next. Dean thinks it’s kind of obvious but then, this is Castiel. It takes awhile to get through that thick head sometimes.

 

“You, Cas,” he says. “Sometimes we gotta do things that we want. You know, like vacations and eating tubs of ice cream or whatever the heck angels do for fun.”

 

“Dean, we’re at war. I am at war.”

 

“You’re always at war,” Dean says. “Good, evil, I get it. You gotta take a night off though. What, Heaven doesn’t give out sick days?”

 

Dean can feel the moment shift. He knows that Castiel has been hiding things from him; how could he not, being a millennia old angel? But he can feel the air shift the moment before he speaks. It’s not enough time to try to stop him even if Dean could have thought to do so.

 

“We can’t afford that. Not when Lucifer is trying to bring the Apocalypse.”

 

Dean smacks a hand against the steering wheel. It doesn’t sink in; stuff like that doesn’t sink in for days, weeks, maybe months. He suspects something like this could take years, and it’ll probably blindside him at the worst moment.

 

But for now, he just rolls with it. He’s always taken refuge in the vulgar and blunt. Life’s easier that way.

 

“I fucking knew something was going on!”

 

Castiel stares at him in total disbelief. To be fair, Dean’s just as surprised at his reaction as Castiel is, but it’s better than the bit of hysteria that’s beginning to bubble up. Fucking apocalypse.

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah! Before we’d only see like, five or six demon possessions a year. Now we’re getting dozens a week. Figures the apocalypse would drag them out.”

 

Dean glances at Castiel. That definitely explains why angels are cruising about. And why things have turned bloody.

 

“That’s why you think you can just kill off whole towns, isn’t it?”

 

"We only destroy towns to protect humanity," Castiel says. "The deaths of a thousand are preferable to the deaths of six billion. There's a bigger picture here."

 

"You don't sound too convinced," Dean points out. He would be getting mad but it's really easy to tell that Castiel doesn't believe what he's saying. And he clearly doesn't expect Dean to buy it.

 

Castiel doesn’t say anything for the longest time and just as Dean is about to turn the radio back on (because holy shit is it awkward) when Castiel speaks.

 

“I’m...I have questions. I have doubts,” Castiel admits. He exhales, as though some kind of weight is lifted from his shoulders. Dean thinks that maybe Cas has been wanting to say that for a while.

 

And even Dean knows that angels questioning Heaven is a big fucking deal.

 

“Join the club.” Dean says. Because you can’t stay quiet after hearing something like that. You just can’t.

 

Castiel is back to staring at him, and Dean doesn’t have to look to know it’s in disbelief. He can feel it, damn him.

 

“But hey, it’s not a bad club to be in. I mean, you don’t exactly scream Lucifer 2.0. Just an angel wanting to do the right thing. Right?”

 

It hits Dean that’s it’s a really weird thing for him to say. Then it hits him that he’s trying to cheer up an angel, one of the creatures he’s been hunting. He’s trying to cheer Castiel up. And it’s working, because Cas (and holy shit when did he get a nickname?) smiles at him and does in fact look a bit more at ease.

 

Dean would be more unsettled by that but damn, it’s good to see Cas smile.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel has learned much over the last few months of hunting after Dean. The diners, such as the one they had just left, were perhaps the most vibrant of the settings he has frequented. The bustle of people as they eat, cook, and live intrigues Castiel. So many lives gathering together for a common purpose yet all so distant and separate from one another. Before any of this he had never set foot in one.

 

Now he knows the insides and outs of dozens of the establishments. He knows of motels that no sane person ought to ever sleep in, of lonely roads cheered up by loudly sung tunes, and beaten up cars only holding together through the power of frequent tinkerings and copious amounts of gasoline.

 

It was a world he had watched from afar, not inhabited. And one of the most surprising bits was on top of him, stripping him of his vessel’s clothes as hurriedly as possible.

 

As much as he wants to observe, it’s not possible to remain detached as Dean’s hand slides up his now naked thigh. Castiel shivers, not from any chill but from something else that he cannot name. Dean murmurs something but he can’t make much of it out. It’s all comforting nonsense and it shouldn’t work, because he’s an angel and he’s above such things, but he relaxes all the same.

 

The sheets of the bed are rough under his bare back. Castiel doesn’t know what to do, where to put his hands or how to move his legs; Dean leans up to his ear and mutters to him to not worry. Dean guides his hand and tells him to touch as much as he likes. Wherever he likes.

 

Because Dean knows exactly where he wants to touch Castiel and he wastes no time in kissing him. This, Castiel likes, even as he’s unsure how to reciprocate. There’s the taste of Dean’s mouth, the warmth and wet of it so sharp and soft at once, and it’s hard to think of how it can get better than this.

 

He stares at the ceiling for a moment before trying to sit up, surprising Dean into moving along with him. Castiel ends up mostly in Dean’s lap, and it doesn’t seem to bother Dean. He grins at him and wraps his hand around Castiel’s cock.

 

Castiel has his hands on Dean’s shoulders and he grips tight as Dean begins to move his hand. Dean winces only once and from then Castiel is mindful of his strength. He aches to exert all his strength, to hold Dean too tight and too close, but he holds back.

 

Dean murmurs ‘you can touch back’ and as he does, he guides Castiel’s hand to his dick. He tries to mimic Dean but it’s difficult. Everything is so hot and there’s something of a tension, a pressure inside of him that’s aching.

 

His hands are awkward, his mouth more so, but Dean takes it all in eagerly. He mutters suggestions and comfort and nonsense. And he keeps talking right up through Castiel’s orgasm, telling him it’s good, so good, he’s such a good angel and isn’t it great, Cas, doesn’t this feel awesome, it’s not a bad thing just let it happen, let me do this for you.

 

“Dean.” Castiel sighs his name out and leans against him. He’s so comfortable and his body is wrung out in the best way possible. For a minute he stays there before he realizes that he needs to reciprocate.

 

He watches Dean carefully as he begins to stroke him once more. Dean holds his look right through his own orgasm. And pleased as Dean he seems to be with the result of their sexual encounter, Castiel doesn’t quite understand why Dean calls him a kinky son of a bitch for it.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean fucked an angel.

 

He’s tried his usual plethora of reality blocking techniques, but there isn’t enough booze, sex, or hunting that can take his mind away from the fact that he had sex with an angel of the lord. And he’s not unaware of the irony that he’s been killing angels for the past few months.

 

He, Dean Winchester, fuck up extraordinaire, actually had sex with a goddamn angel. Dean stares up at the water stains on the motel room ceiling. If he ever meets God he’s going to punch the motherfucker in the face because fuck this shit.

 

He’s going to Hell for this, he’s pretty damn sure. Doubly if he ever does meet whatever passes for a Judeo Christian God. Punching God is probably a one way ticket, you know, if fucking an angel isn’t one already.

 

Dean rubs his eyes and looks over the translation again. Enochian is a bitch and a half to translate. Bobby has been beyond helpful; if it hadn’t been for him Dean’s not sure he would have found half as many names as he has. They have to be pretty exact for the angel summoning to work otherwise all he calls down is a bunch of air. Research had always been John’s and Sam’s thing. Mostly Sam.

 

It’s barely past ten and he just wants his brain to stop thinking; he keeps hopping from Sam to Cas and looping around. Pretty much everything he doesn’t want to think about because he just doesn’t want to deal with it. He’s spent years trying to forget how Sam ditched him.

 

But then the moment he stops thinking about Sam his thoughts turn right to Castiel. And the fact that they had sex. It’s a vicious cycle, one that isn’t helped by the fact that he’s trying to work, and so he has to keep his hand from constantly wandering to his drink.

 

Dean glares at the letters and sheets; he’s fallen out of practice with his Enochian since Cas. It’s been months since he’s tracked down and killed an angel.

 

‘Fuck,’ he thinks and lets it repeat in his head.

 

Things with Sam and Dad have never been easy. That’s just the way family is, he guesses. But hunting has always been so solid and so simple. They hunt the bad guys, and they stop them from hurting people.

 

He never believed in a god or angels, so when he found out they were wiping towns off the map, he didn’t have much of a problem with learning how to hunt them. Sure, he had a moment of hating irony and the universe, but that’s just cause everyone and their mom thinks that angels are the good guys.

 

But then Anna popped into his life, and then Cas did, and everything has stopped being simple.

He went from being an angel hunter to an angel fucker. He hasn’t killed an angel in weeks. Maybe months. It’s hard to tell when he stopped.

 

Dean runs his hands over the sheet he’s writing on and focuses on it. Bobby doesn’t know what he’s up to, at least not exactly. But he’s a whiz and a half with languages. Between him and Pastor Jim, Dean has loads of historical documents with angel crap written all over them. It’s still miss and hit with finding names, and sometimes by the time Dean’s gotten to them, the angels are already dead.

 

He takes a picture of a few of the characters that he can’t figure out, to see if either of them can lend a second eyeball. And he waits, even though he knows he’s got the name part right. Because tomorrow he’s going to hunt another angel.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel has never felt guilt. He feels it now as he enters Heaven, centuries worth of it running along his skin, as though reminding him of Dean's fingers, his breath, his cock, his ejaculate all over his body.

 

It's a disgrace that he can even walk into Heaven without his vices being displayed so prominently. Even so he's certain that the other angels can tell. Surely they can see how far he has fallen, how low he has sunk. How base he has become.

 

Heaven's light and songs cannot help him now. Castiel takes no joy in the beauty of his surroundings and simply hurries to meet with the angel who has called him here. Uriel never wastes time, and he would only call for him if something of import came to his attention.

 

He has rarely been called to Heaven as of late. No one wants to be the one to interrupt him if he were in the middle catching Dean. And no one wants to get in his way. He’s run into angels, and occasionally helped with tasks, but it’s only by chance if he’s nearby.

 

Uriel goes to meet him, and clasps him, unable to contain himself. He’s never seen Uriel so overjoyed.

 

"We have him," Uriel crows triumphantly and Castiel doesn't need to be told anything else.

 

He was naive to think this could go on forever. How could it, when he was an angel, and Dean was a hunter who had been foolish enough to seek war with the might of Heaven?

 

Heaven is cold, and has always been, but Castiel is colder still. The all too human emotions of confusion and fear churn in his stomach. And Castiel realizes now that he has truly forsaken all that he knows of being an angel.

 

* * *

 

 

_For the first time Anna realizes the benefits to Dean’s manner of living from motel room to motel room. He won’t have to bother cleaning up the paint splattered over the walls._

_She looks down at herself. It’s difficult to believe that she’s an angel, as she stands there covered in paint from head to toe. She’s got a huge blotch of green over her where Dean had started the surprise paint war._

_On the other hand, Dean is covered in a dizzying array of colors. He’s a veritable rainbow. He blinks out reds and blues and purples from his eyes and grins at her._

_“We got any paint left over?”_

_“You mean for actual working?” Anna says, though she can’t manage to stop smiling or make her voice sound stern. It was great fun, even if Dean had interrupted her as she’d been teaching him the angel trapping sigil._

_“Hey, if you’re learning ‘bout humans, first thing you gotta know is we’re sneaky. We come out of the shadows like we’re motherfucking Batman.”_

_That reference she gets and she’s racking her brains to throw one back at him; Dean’s always pleased when she does, even if it’s a bit of a trite trick. But before she can, she hears something coming along what Dean refers to as the ‘angel radio’. It isn’t a bad term for it, but she has to be careful not to use that phrase around other angels. It reeks of humanity, after all._

_“Keep practicing. There’s somewhere I have to be.” She doesn’t wait to listen to his protests. Heaven may be all wise and patient but it expects its orders to be obeyed instantly._

_She could have handled Zachariah or Uriel, or anyone else really. But it’s Castiel who called for her. Anna forgets that she is ranked above him, and that he has no place to call for her so demandingly. She’s already so removed from Heaven. Anyone else would begin to suspect disobedience. Castiel is only worried for her._

_“You’ve spent much time away from the Host,” he says. His words cause a pain inside of her and it takes her a few moments to recognize the feeling and to categorize it as regret._

_She feels so much regret for causing him to worry like this. Anna wants to teach him, to explain to him what she has been learning, but not yet. She needs to understand more thoroughly so she can explain it to him in a way that he can accept._

_“There have been no troubles that require us to stay in Heaven,” Anna says. She is guilty, and she covers it with a lie. A angel who sins and tells falsehoods; it’s kind of hilarious, and she thinks that she’ll have to share that with Dean. He’d appreciate it._

_Castiel begins to talk, but it’s all repetition and recitation. Earth is their jurisdiction but they cannot fall to it, for it belongs to humans as God commanded._

_All Anna can think about is how relieved she is that this was not an order, that no one realized how far gone she was. It’s entirely selfish of her but she just embraces the humanity of it instead. She’s fallen for the good and bad of it all and while she doesn’t know just yet, she’s made her decision._

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel learns what happened not through any means of a trick or cunning, but because Uriel refuses to shut up about it. He hasn’t seen Uriel this excited before, and he’s known him for millenniums. He looks around, at the beauty of Heaven; it is forever and glorious as He decreed. And it never changes, just as Uriel will never know anything but disdain for humans. It would dishearten Castiel but there’s nothing that can possibly hurt him more than the knowledge that Dean is in danger.

 

And it’s thanks to him, as Uriel keeps pointing out. It’s thanks to Castiel, for when the angel felt he was being summoned, he had called out to his brothers. They had known about the specific sigil that Dean used because Castiel had told them. And everyone had been warned, and made to remember it, per his suggestion.

 

Why did Dean return to killing angels though? Castiel knows at once and yet can’t fathom it at all. He thinks that they could have kept on going like this even as he knows that simply isn’t true. That’s not true at all, and that’s why Dean went and tried to kill an angel again. He knows exactly why but even more than that, he understands.

 

Except Dean, wonderful and terrified and confused and human, is in danger now and Castiel is the only one who can save him.

 

No one questions Castiel as he heads to the Green Room where the angels are keeping Dean.

 

It’s too late but now he has doubts and suspicions about what Heaven really wants with Dean. The angels know Dean has been killing their kind. It would make far more sense to simply kill him on the spot, rather than take him prisoner. But Castiel doesn't have time to wonder about that.

 

He’s a few steps from the door when an angel appears. Castiel’s mind races with plans to circumvent him but the guard (for that’s what he is) doesn’t question him; he simply steps aside to allow him to enter. Castiel questions with himself whether he should kill the angel where he stands or let him live when he sees Dean crumpled in a heap on the floor. And with that his decision is made and he turns around to stab the angel.

 

He drags him in and shuts the door, the room dimming the bright light as the angel dies. But it’s pointless, as someone will see what light emanated from him as he died, and come to find out what happened.

 

Dean doesn’t seem to notice the light, which worries Castiel far more than any angel finding them. The display should have been enough to jar him from any unconscious stupor. Except for one.

 

He rushes over and pulls part of him into his lap, turning him over to look into his face. He doesn’t know what to do for a moment; if Dean is dead, then what’s he’s done is relatively pointless. But then Dean's eyes flutter open. For a moment Castiel fears that they won't open again as Dean's head rolls onto his shoulder.

 

"Your brothers are dicks," he groans out, beautifully alive and wonderfully irreverent as always. He’s already trying to pull himself up to get to his feet.

 

Castiel ignores the slain angel beside them.

 

“They are,” he agrees with Dean, and then with no further ceremony yanks him up and flies away in search of a safe harbor.

 

Castiel wants to just keep flying forever but he’s forced to stop by a highway in Nevada so Dean can violently vomit from the jaunt. Dean had never vocally shied away from saying how much he hates the ‘angel airways’ but in his hurry to get away, Castiel had forgotten.

 

“Fuck,” Dean pants, wiping at his mouth. He’s on his knees and doesn’t seem like he’s about to get up anytime soon.

 

Castiel wants to rush him, but at the same time, there probably isn’t a point. He’s rebelled, he’s fallen, and it’s slowly coming to him the magnitude of what he’s done. It isn’t quite there yet though so he can still calmly talk to Dean and even glare at him as if that would make him hurry up spilling his stomach out.

 

“Give me a minute.” Dean barely manages to finish speaking before he’s puking into the dirt again.

 

Castiel watches him, saying nothing more, even when Dean finishes and leans back to sit in the dust. Dean is suspiciously quiet and Castiel knows it's because he's studying him, looking him over and preparing to ask him what happened.

 

"You killed an angel back there," Dean says. His voice is quiet, and Castiel is a little surprised at the gentleness of it.

 

Castiel shifts around uncomfortably. He may have just rebelled against all of Heaven for one man, but that doesn’t mean he’s capable of discussing it. (He wonders if he’s picked this up from Dean, this reluctance and dislike of verbosity.)

 

"You were in danger.” It's a simple answer for a complex question. But it was the right course of action for him to take. He could have never left Dean there.

 

Dean doesn’t seem to know what to do with that response. And because Castiel is watching him, he sees the question pass across his face even before Dean can begin to say it. He raises two fingers, pausing for a moment and looking at Dean.

 

“Where’s your car?”

 

Dean wipes his mouth with his sleeve and gets up, squinting against the sun.

 

“Louisiana. Three miles from the Screeton Motel, behind the gas station-” That’s enough for Castiel to figure it out but Dean glares at him for the lack of warning once they arrive. He keeps it together this time though Castiel suspects it’s because of the hand he has against the Impala, securing him down.

 

Castiel is about to hesitate but before he can, Dean nods at him with a grin and tells him to hop into the front seat. He doesn’t smile back but he slides in.

 

“So where to?” Dean asks, as he starts the car.

 

Castiel looks out and wants to tell Dean to go wherever. He wants to say that this is all pointless, that it doesn’t matter where they go and that soon Dean will have a powerless fallen angel on his hands.

 

“Where do you want to go?”

 

Dean takes his time to think as he maneuvers out of the gas station parking lot.

 

“Haven’t heard from my dad in a couple of days. He was in a town called Jericho last I knew. We could go check on him?” Dean offers up. “And on the way you can fill me in on this apparent apocalypse we got going on.”

 

Castiel frowns at him. They have just escaped from Heaven’s grasp, and they don’t know how much longer they can stay free. He wonders if Dean doesn’t get the magnitude of what they have done. Then he remembers Dean hunted angels because he perceived them as a threat. Of course he would want to do all he could to avert the apocalypse.

 

“If you pursue this, we’ll be running into many more angels,” Castiel says, unable to help but try to warn Dean off. There are plenty of monsters he can hunt that will keep him far away from angels.

 

“Yeah, well, we’re going to Cali to pick up our best guys,” Dean says proudly. He turns to give Castiel a cocky grin. “I’m not going to sit back and let those dicks save the world. It’s our planet, not theirs.”

 

Castiel finally smiles at that and leans back in the seat to watch the scenery zip by. Maybe he’ll regret it later but as of right now, the view looks pretty good from the front seat of the Impala.

 

As Dean would say, Heaven can bite him.


End file.
